A Day in the Life
by celesti
Summary: Harley is held hostage at a robbery, or is she?


Escaping from Arkham was as easy as walking out of a revolving door. Those dumb guards wouldn't know crap unless it was thrown in their face. At least, that's what Harley always said. It was after getting out of the loon bin did she face the real problems. Getting a place to stay, getting cash, money, and even real clothes always proved to be a annoying hassle. Finding a home was hard, and she frequently found herself saddling up with crummy homeless shelters. But sometimes she'd have a load of fine cash hidden in one of the abandoned warehouses that she and Joker would hide at, so she'd always start there when it came to finding some dough.

Even when she got a place, she couldn't stay there for more then a few weeks. With the Bat on patrol, you always had to be extremely cautious about where you hid and poked your nose. But she managed to convince a landlord to take her in one of the trashed apartments that sprawled over downtown Gotham, promising that she'd pay big. Which she wasn't lying, because Harley had a plan.

She stood in line of the little boutique, bundles of clothes on hangers in her arms. Maybe she had a little addiction with getting the newest pairs of clothing and accessory. She'd admit that much. But she didn't exactly come here for the shopping. No, she had other things in mind, as confirmed by the Colt .45 that lay hidden on the strap attached to her boot. Robbery was a crime as old as money itself, and she was a expert.

It was good too, because with this cash that she'd get, she could move out. Her new apartment was nasty with terrible plumbing. The air conditioning practically went out yesterday, and she was stuck in her scorching room as she waited for it to come back on. Not to mention, it smelled worse than a teenage boy's socks. And as a woman who grew up with an incompetent older brother, that was saying something!

"Next customer, please!"

Harley grinned toothily, bouncing her way to the front counter. She dumped her clothes on top, making sure to not let them wrinkle too much. If she was going to be wearing them then she wanted it to look nice. The young woman on the other side of the counter barely had started to remove the tag on one of the clothes before looking up at Harley with a smile.

"So did you find everyth-"

A gunshot suddenly went off, and for a second, Harley thought it was hers. Oh, that would of been a huge bust.

"Everybody sit down and shut up!"

The smile left her face as she found herself staring down a pistol, and man with a black ski mask glaring right at her. He aimed it toward the ceiling, firing off two rounds. Bits of plaster tumbled downward, a small piece landing on the tip of her nose. Harley quirked her brow, looking at it with crossed eyes as she shook it off with a arch of the head. By now, the customers were either collapsed on the ground or shrieking in utter panic.

Harley only stomped her foot in frustration. "Way to be a big ol' copier, cheesy head! This was _my _gig! _My_ party!" She threw her hands out in exasperation, stomping her feet two more times until a gun was pointed straight at her head.

"We said sit down." The man behind the gun sneered.

Harley huffed a deep breath. Well, she didn't feel like dying today, that's for sure. She plopped to the floor quickly and sat with crossed legs, a giant frown planted across her face as she watched the two men dig through the cash register like hungry dogs would with a bowl of beef jerky. What a bunch of animals. Harley growled annoyingly, eyes flashing with frustration. If only she could somehow stop these two losers.

Oh that's right! A little imaginative light bulb popped over her head and the gleaming grin came back to her face. The gun was still in her boot! Of course! She reached to the side of her boot and felt the lump of the weapon. Still nice and sturdy. Harley popped up from behind the counter with a smile.

"Hiya!" Harley beamed wildly.

"Hey! I thought we told you-"

_BOOM!_

The masked man's body flew back to the wall, red exploding across it and the floor as he tumbled down into a violent heap of death.

"Bam!" Harley shouted, snapping her fingers. "Well, he's dead."

The other man shouted in anguish, quickly reaching down to pick up his gun that he stupidly left on the counter. Too late for that. Harley kicked her leg across the barrier, slamming her foot into the guy's jaw. A audible crack echoed throughout the store as he fell to the floor with a pained scream.

"Right in the kisser!" Harley bounded over to the man in question. She stood over him as he lay on his side shaking, holding his jaw.

"Plea-Please don't kill me!"

Harley smiled sweetly, heading over the cash register and stacking the bills into her purse with pride. She then grabbed her clothes and stuffed them into a plastic bag. Meanwhile, the customers stared in fear, too scared to move and too scared to speak. As Harley headed back to the now weeping man, she quirked her head in thought. She let the bags and purse fall from her grip as she kicked him so he lay on his back. Harley stepped to stand over him.

"What's yer name?" She asked curiously.

He furrowed a brow, obviously confused. "What?"

"Nice to meet you, What. I'm Harley Quinn. Wanna hear a song?" She asked. Harley held up the Colt .45 in the air, giving him a good look at it. She smirked down at him and started to sing. "I'm a little teacup, short an' fun. Here is my handle, here is my gun." She quickly aimed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

_BOOM!_

_xx_

Harley panted wildly as she busted through the doors of her crummy apartment, dropping the shopping bags and wheezing loudly as she slapped her hands on her knees, doubling over and she struggling to catch her breath. The pigs had arrived almost soon after that little jam. Luckily, she escaped with the use of her acrobatic skills, but that didn't mean that she wasn't exhausted as a lazy mule.

"Wowza. That was close!" She said to no one in particular, taking in big gulps of air. She drew her hand up, wiping back a few speckles of sweat from her forehead. A sigh of relief left her lips as she trudged to the living room, stripping her jacket and letting it fall on the floor, before plopping onto her couch. Harley reached for the remote and switched on the old television that sat in the corner. The screen flashed as it came on, showing an rerun of Looney Tunes.

Seeing this, Harley squeaked with joy and turned to her side to watch the wild crazies on the cartoon.

"Oh, this one's my fave... Yeah! Get em' Wile E. Coyote! Kick that Roadrunner's skinny ass!" Bubbly eyes now narrowed in irritation as the cartoon coyote was flattened by a boulder. "Oh man! C'mon!"


End file.
